Emperor Palace WH40K
by Mattwho81
Summary: Siege of the Emperors Palace from Horus Heresy. A compliation of the best versions of this tale with some of my own twists. All credit to Games Workshop


_+++Gathering Storm+++_

_On the very edge of the Solar system the doom of humanity hung in the endless night, ten thousand slab sided monoliths brooding in the dark like predators awaiting a kill. Along their pitted and scorched hulls were faded sigils and gutted pennants, once declarations of loyalty but now blotted out by dark runes to the powers of the warp. Each was a leviathan capable of laying waste whole worlds and bringing armies to ruin, designed to hunt and slay among the stars, but yet it was upon the will of one man that they awaited. One ship stood aloof from the rest, a daemon among monsters, once lauded now universally hated for it was the proud and mighty 'Vengeful Spirit'. Upon her bridge was gathered the inner circle of the rebellion, those who had first forsaken their oaths to the Imperium, these men had stood expecting glory but today knew only fear._

_On a raised podium, before a throne of dark iron stood the Warmaster Horus, tall and regal in his black armour his patrician features snarled in anger. One hand was encased in a huge clawed gauntlet that crackled energy as he moved and the other kneaded at the mighty mace he bore. He paced back and forth, each footfall ringing like steel beating on an anvil, looking down with contempt at the prostrate figure before him Horus bellowed "You dare return to me in failure!"_

_Kneeling on the deck, his forehead pressed to the metal was the Primarch Perturabo, even prostrating he cut a mighty figure in his grey war plate, yet today he was humiliated before men he would have once crushed underfoot for merely looking upon him. Perturabo raised his head a fraction and began to speak "Mighty Horus it was not my fault, the lapdogs of Dorn refused to meet us in honourable combat they scattered and ran at our approach!"_

_Horus sneered, "Bungling fool! You had every advantage conceivable, numbers, surprise, and the power of the Warp at your command. And then you threw it all away with a sloppy strike!" He roared his anger with fury that made even hardened Space Marines shudder, "Your incompetence has cost us dear, do you not understand that the entire Imperial Fists Legion even now stands against us in the Imperial Palace!"_

_Perturabo cast his eyes around the audience chamber looking for succour but found none, his brother Primarchs stood out from the crowded rebels yet clearly enjoyed his shame. Fulgrim stood wantonly massaging his gut, intoxicated by the heady rush of passions, whereas Angron could not be still, twitching and kneading the handles of his axes as if yearning to return to the training deck and his endless slaughter of prisoners. Magnus stood apart, barely paying scant heed to the events as he contemplated the distant stars out the view port, whereas Lorgar was fixated upon the spectacle as if committing every whisper to his perfect memory. As for Mortarion it was impossible to tell where his attention lay: the diseased and ravaged frame that had emerged from the Warp barely recognisable as a Primarch. His breath steamed wetly even in the hot air and suppurating buboes hissed across his gaunt chest and arms._

_Bereft of help Perturabo pushed himself upright and rallied back "I am not the only one who has erred. Did not Sanguineous and his Blood Angels evade destruction by your Daemons. Did not Jaghatai Kahn and his White Scars Legion elude Alpharius, why is he not here beside me"_

_Horus roared and swung his huge mace down in a blur of fury, Perturabo fell back in terror as the huge head whispered past his brow and slammed into the deck at his knees leaving a huge dent in the plasteel. Horus whipped forth his hand and caught Perturabo's gorget, pulling him close enough so he could feel the Warmaster's breath on his skin. Though snarled teeth Horus whispered, "At least Alpharius had enough good sense to run and hide from my wrath, not come crawling back on his knees like some whipped lapdog"_

_Clutching at Horus's arm the Iron Warrior Primarch stammered, "I… I will not be spoken to in this manner, you promised me, you promised me respect"._

"_Respect? For an mewling failure like you," hissed Horus, he stood frozen for an instant then pushed Perturabo back so he sprawled on his rear. "Go! Lead your trenchsloggers into war, earn enough victories and maybe I will not have to gut you as an example to the rest."_

_Horus strode past his disgraced brother and spread his arms wide "Go! All of you, the assault begins now! We fall upon Terra today and burn the Emperor out of his hiding hole. The fate of the galaxy hangs upon our deeds and the worlds of men shall know their new master when I have our father's heart in my hand!"_

**Assault on Holy Terra**

By William king

On the thirteenth of September, the bombardment began. From orbit, the War master's ships laid down an unrelenting barrage of missiles and deadly energy beams. The aim was to cripple the defences around the Emperor's Palace and make possible a massive invasion of Earth. The mighty fortress-moon Luna had already fallen, and the defending Battle fleet Solar had been scattered. On Mars, the vast robotic Titan Legions duelled amongst the burned out factories, as bitter civil war raged throughout the Adeptus Mechanicus.

On countless worlds, blood mad warriors clashed. Those who had pledged loyalty to the Emperor fought those who had sworn fealty to the Imperial War Master, Horus, and through him, to the dark powers of Chaos. The Emperor's realm was in turmoil and some of the greatest battles in human history were being fought. On the hive world, Thranx over a million men died in a single day, on the killing fields of Perdagor. On the blazing deserts of Tallarn, at the Kaman salient fifty thousands tanks clashed in the greatest armoured action of all time. During the space drop on Anaheim, virus bombs depopulated three hive cities as a warning against resisting Chaos, yet still the defenders fought to the last man. Like a cancer, the heresy infected the entire structure of the Imperium. Everywhere brave men gave up their lives trying to excise the disease.

It was on Earth, at the very heart of the Emperor's realm, that the fate of the galaxy was to be decided. In those last days, the Earth suffered as never before, lush paradises were stripped away as the sky turned black with dust clouds and the land split by gigantic fissures. Tectonic plates shifted under the stress of Horus' barrage, mountains collapsed, fertile forests burned and seas evaporated becoming barren deserts. Rains of soot and ash dripped from above as telepathic choirs sang of evil portents and men went mad from fear. Hideously twisted ships hung in low orbit over the ravaged world.

Shielded from the devastation by the cunningly wrought defences of the Adeptus Mechanicus, a pitiful few stood ready to repel the invaders. The embattled remnants of the Emperor's army were desperately trying to hold out until reinforcements could arrive. Sanguinius, Primarch of the Blood Angels, personally oversaw the defence of the Palace followed by the gold clad Custodian Guard, the Emperor's personal army. In the Palace grounds stood the stalwart men of the Imperial Army and the Arbites police force. The Palace was not the only bastion of resistance; there were others, each an awesome fortified city filled with dauntless soldiers. Beneath the ruins of the Imperial Basilica, grim-visaged Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists led his golden armoured warriors in final prayers. Within the armoured factory complexes of the Adeptus Mechanicus, tech-priests put aside their tools and girded themselves with the fearsome weapons of their order. In the rubble of burned out hab areas Jaghatai Kahn, Primarch of the White Scars, mustered the marines whom he had personally instructed in the art of lighting warfare. High above the great Sky Fortress hung impossibly in the air, its fleets of fighters readying for the coming invasion. Three full Titan Legions stood ready to defend their Emperor. As the earth shuddered under the impacts, tank divisions roared across the tortured landscape to take up final positions against the coming invasion. Brave men checked their weapons and offered up last prayers as defence lasers swivelled to face the turbulent threatening sky. Suddenly the night was streaked by the plasma contrails of drop-pods. Within the walls even Space Marines shuddered, knowing that they must soon face their lost and damned brethren. The terrifying prospect of facing these corrupt Primarchs, who had sold their souls to Chaos, filled every man's mind with indescribable horror and dread.

The pods touched ground and from them erupted the mightiest champions of Chaos, the renegade space marines of the lost legions. These were no longer the fine humans warriors of legend but twisted creatures, bodies warped by the energies of Chaos, and their minds twisted by their devotion to the dark powers. The fate of the space marines may have been horrible but what had happened to their Primarchs was a nightmare. They had been created higher in the Emperor's esteem and had fallen further, none of their former comrades would have recognised them, for they had been transformed into creatures both daemonic and exultant.

Mighty Angron bellowed orders to his blood drinking World Eaters, brandishing his great gore soaked axes he led them against the defenders of Eternity Wall spaceport. Around his red- armoured followers bolter shots whined, unflinchingly they advanced, determined to spill blood for Khorne, Blood for the Blood God.

At Mortarion's rasping command the Death Guard emerged silently from the festering cocoons of their drop pods and advanced on the Lions Gate spaceport, striking terror into foes as they approached. Their bodies bloated by the plagues of Nurgle they were the Death Guard no more, for the rest of time they would be known only as the Plague Marines.

Fulgrim directed his sons forward, carving a path through their foes whilst hails of deadly bolter shells cut down dozens of the blasphemous Emperors Children. Exhilarated the wounded howled with pleasure at the experience and chanted praises to the name of Slaanesh.

Magnus the Red glared triumphantly about him with his one great eye, he clutched his spell books close to his mutated breast and directed his Coven of Thousand Son sorcerers to began preparations to summon the warp-magics of Tzeencth.

High above Perturabo glanced disdainfully at the reports from the surface while he oversaw the Iron Warriors as they made final checks on their potent siege equipment. Meanwhile Lorgar was oblivious to all things as he co-ordinated his Word bearers, spreading his dark apostles throughout the cultists' ships to whip the teeming hoards into berserker madness with their words alone.

Night Falls

Perhaps some defenders went mad with fear, perhaps the rot ran deeper than anyone had suspected, perhaps some were foolish enough to think that they could negotiate with the ultimate enemy. Whatever the reason one last act of vile treachery was to take place. Many units of the Imperial army that had pledged loyalty to the Emperor turned blasphemer even as the Traitor Marines made their drop, it was almost as if it were a pre-arranged signal. In one of the basest acts of betrayal, they turned their weapons on their own brothers and cut them down like dogs. Thus did the Lions Gate spaceport ultimately fall to the rebels. As the heretics chanted and howled their mad prayers, the air shimmered and slavering daemons emerged from Warp space spreading terror and dismay.

Then indeed did it seem to the defenders that they were living in the last days of Mankind. Huge bat-winged Bloodthirsters of Khorne swept triumphantly across the weeping skies. Clawed Keepers of secrets danced lustfully on piles of corpses. Great Unclean ones chuckled as they lumbered through the ruins, spreading trails of filth, slime and disease. Enigmatic Lords of change wrapped themselves with spells as they supervised the coming changes to the heart of the galaxy. Mighty ships began the descent from orbit, hoping to overwhelm the defenders by sheer weight of numbers. Unlike the drop pods these presented fine targets for the weapons of the besieged defenders, and thus the battle for Terra did begin in earnest.

Defence lasers blasted many renegade ships from the sky, sending thousands of tons of fused metal death raining down onto the ground below. One giant raft span out of control and crashed into a hab-unit killing a hundred thousand people. Another was welded to the ground, disgorging its passengers into a lake of bubbling plasteel, and tar. The ships of the Legio Damnatus were torn open and that name passed into history. It was a defiant gesture by men with no hope of survival, however in the context of the battle as a whole these acts of desperate heroism may have made the vital difference between victory and defeat. As quickly as they disembarked, the cultists surged forth from the spaceports to besiege the bastions of the defenders. Their first objective was to silence the defence lasers inflicting such casualties on their brethren. The rebels were met by a wave of defenders, desperate men who knew they were giving their lives for their home world and their Emperor.

In the tightly packed streets around the spaceports, the fighting was close and deadly. Bolters chattered and missile launchers delivered cargoes of death from building to building. Traitor tanks rumbled through the avenues, turrets swivelling to bring weapons to bear upon the hastily improvised barricades of their former comrades.

Soon the defenders of Eternity Wall spaceport had been wept aside by the merciless assault and the hordes of the Warmaster were in total possession of the space field. More and more intricately wrought drop ships descended from orbit, they towered over the landing field like nightmare skyscrapers, the dark runes on their sides glowing evilly in the gloom. Hundred metre high doors opened in their kilometre long sides, from their red depths, thirty foot tall Titans emerged. They were warped giants; the armour of their carapaces fused and moulded into new shapes by the power of Chaos, within them men were melded into their machines. Some of the hideous Titans had strange and potent weapons; others were a bizarre mix of the organic and the machine. Metal tentacles lashed, spiked tails whipped back and forth, engines roared like the voices of angry beasts. Banners fluttering the Titans of the Storm Lords and Flaming Skulls Legions marched forth. At Lions Gate spaceport the traitors welcomed the towering black war engines of the khornate host. Monsters, mutants and cultists seethed like angry ants around their robotic feet.

With his landing sites secured Horus once again revealed the military genius that had made him Warmaster, what he needed now was to link his forces before the loyalists could contain his armies in their drop zones. Reinforced by the Khornate battle Titans the hordes swept on, driving through the exhausted and demoralised Imperial troops to link Lions Gate and Eternity Wall spaceports. The shattered Imperial forces fell back before them, to the very foothills of the Emperors Palace. The hordes of mutants and cultists pressed their attacks against the loyalists, pinned in the earthwork defences, men died in there thousands. From pillbox emplacements in the trenches gun crews rained death down upon the relentless attackers, again and again the emplacements outside the mountains of the palace were swept clear. Again and again new foes charged forth to take their place. It is unclear how long Horus allowed the general assault to continue, he certainly had other considerations.

Loyalist Titans made spirited counter attacks against the Chaos hordes flanks, when they were halted the White Scars would sweep down upon the long columns, wreak havoc, and then withdraw. While from above endless sorties of bombers flew from the Sky Fortress determined to inflict every last grain of damage possible. The Plague Marines and the Flaming Skulls Titans were pulled out to counter the loyalists and limit the damage they could do. There was also disobedience in Horus' own ranks, the Emperor's Children deserted from the main Chaos force to inflict their own dark urges upon the civilian population. Horus could do little about this; with luck the terror the Emperors Children would spread could work for him and divert the loyalists away. Even so, Horus may have regretted using the pursuit of pleasure to seduce Fulgrim and his Legion, now that it had cost him almost a quarter of his Marines.

But the spaceports were firmly in the hands of the War master, hundreds of thousands of cultists poured down from orbit. Under the banner of the great eye, the sign of Horus, the lackeys of the four great powers of Chaos marched united. Mounted in Rhino APC's, lurking within mighty behemoths and clinging to the sides of Titans they marched on the Palace. And at their vanguard the full might of the Traitor Legions was finally unleashed.

They easily blew their way through the outer earthwork defences at Haldawagni and Xigazii and the scale of the carnage made it seem as if sky at the top of the world was on fire. Despite the constant bombardment hailing down from distant Macro-Cannons, and the constant sorties of the Stormbirds and Thunderhawks, the Traitor Legions advanced along the valley of the Bramaputra into the delta of the Karnali falls. Continental firestorms raged across the Gangehtic plateau and as they penetrated the rampart defences of the Palace itself the screaming multitudes and the daemonic war machines were greeted with monsoons of firepower. Every single emplacement along the entire Dwallighri prominence committed its guns, shells fell like sleet, las-blasts and bolter fire lashed out in burning torrents annihilating everything they touched. Titans reeled as their Void shields fell, catching fire they collapsed on their faces crushing hundreds of the warriors swarming around their ankles.

It was not enough.

Looking down on the seething sea of foulness the defenders hearts went cold. Mingling with the daemons and mutants they could see the heretical Space Marines. These were heroes they might have once fought for; they had once been as loyal to the Emperor as themselves. They looked down upon a dark, chaotic mirror of their souls. Down there they could see martial honour become Khorne's berserk madness, human wisdom become Tzeentch's sly treachery. Resolution and hope become Nurgle's despair and foulness, pride and love become Slaanesh's perversion and abominable lust. The brave men on the walls knew that there was no way out, here they must stand and fight and die. This was a war where there could be no peace, it was kill or be killed, and there would be no mercy from those below.

_+++Reflections+++_

_Deep beneath the Imperial Palace there was a cavern, a mighty chamber so vast a pair of Titans could walk end to end without once brushing any wall. Huge machinery pulsed and roared across the walls and floor as an army of Tech-priests serviced the arcane mechanisms. In the very centre of the chamber stood a small pyramid of golden metal upon which stood a throne. Here two figures could be discerned, one seated, radiating golden light, the other frail and bent yet standing unaffected by the bedlam around them._

_The old man said, "My Lord it has begun the Warmaster's forces even now beat upon your door"_

_The radiant being looked up and smiled "Brave Malcador you have been my friend five times the lives of men yet even you do not understand. Horus' endeavours are at best a sideshow, for the true battle rages deep in the Warp. The Ruinous Powers of Chaos tear at the very walls of reality and now only my psychic might is able to direct the Golden Throne to deny them entry. If I falter for but a moment the fabric of reality will fall asunder and the galaxy will be consumed by the Warp itself. And yet I cannot ignore the treachery of my son for only I can deal with him personally."_

_The Emperor looked upon the Regent of Terra sternly and said, "There is but one solution, some other must take my place upon this throne, a soul with psychic power to rival my own. Yet such a soul would need to understand that even the briefest exposure to the Ruinous Powers would spell certain doom, and perhaps worse for Chaos corrupts all it touches and even death would not end the torments the Dark Gods can unleash. Of all the people I command only you are powerful and pure enough to do this, can I ask this of you brave Malcador?" _

_Malcador replied "Of course my master, my life as ever been yours since the day we met I can think of no greater feat I can achieve in your service: save one"_

_At this a portal opened and two hundred figures marched forth, some were lithe and sinewy, others harsh and brutal and a few were unmistakeable for anything other than Astartes warriors. Across the mighty chamber they strode, ignoring the clamouring Tech-Priests all around, their eyes fixed upon the throne as they approached. At their head strode Battle-Captain Garro, the livery of the Death Guard shorn from his armour, he now carried only the stylised I of the Sigillitte, a true Grey Knight. They paused at the foot of the Throne and knelt, paying homage to their lord and master._

_Malcador swept his hand over the gathering and said "My lord your servant has sought out men and women of special talent as you requested, each soul here has proved their loyalty to you beyond doubt when all others fall away. More than that they are cunning and inquisitive in nature, always questioning and seeking truth at all costs." _

_The Emperor smiled and said "So shall it be, I deputise you as my warrior-investigators and charge you to seek out treachery and Chaos amongst the stars. Wherever traitors lurk and plot there you shall be, never hesitating to dispatch justice, wherever the filth of the Warp taints humanity you shall burn it out root and branch. No darkness will hold against you, no evil shall escape your sight for you carry my seal of authority and all shall know and fear you as my Inquisition"_

"_Now go and do your duty"_

Brotherhood Lost

At Primus Gate there was a single moment of silence, then Angron strode forth, a mighty daemonic axe in his hands, his synaptic implants buzzing with fury. In his brazen voice he demanded that the loyalists surrender, he told them that their cause was hopeless, as they faced a foe that could not be defeated. They were cut off, outnumbered and defending a coward who was too weak to command their loyalty. In that moment the men on the walls felt their resolve die, looking upon the transformed face of the Primarch, one of the Emperor's own sons, they saw an invincible foe backed by a numberless horde and all the daemonic might of Chaos.

Then there came a clamour on the walls as Sanguinius and the Blood Angels arrived. Standing on the wall, the angel-winged Primarch glared on Angron with angry contempt. For long moments their gazes locked, each Primarch seemed to be measuring the other, searching for any chinks in their armour, any sign of weakness or fear. Who knows what they saw there? Perhaps they communicated telepathically, brother to brother. The truth will never be known, eventually Angron turned and walked back to his lines. He told the troops that there would be no surrender; they should kill everyone they found within the walls, no stone should be left standing.

With a roar the horde advanced towards the walls. Great lords of Battle lurched forwards on iron wheels, crushing anything in their way, unloading racks of missiles and turning the area on top of the walls into blazing firestorms. Doom burners sent tongues of superheated metal licking out at emplacements, molten brass filtered through the vents, scalding those inside. Enormous flesh hounds of Khorne loped forward in their wake. Titans armed with specially constructed siege weapons lumbered into position, as battle cruisers dropped megatons of explosive death onto the defenders Void shields.

Every loyal warrior knew that he was already dead, that there was no way he could survive the coming of the daemonic army. The soldiers fought with the desperate courage of hopeless men, firing until their guns were empty then snatching up the bolters of the fallen. Even facing monsters with nothing more than the butts of their guns when all ammunition was exhausted. Three times the horde managed to scale the walls through sheer ferocity and three times it was repulsed by Sanguinius and his Blood Angels. Wearily the Primarch marshalled the defenders, rallying the broken, speaking words of comfort to the wounded, fighting with vengeful fury where necessary. Slowly though, despite his efforts, the Chaos horde managed to erode the defence, pushing the defenders further back along the mile high walls. They seemed numberless as the grains of sand on a beach, and their columns stretched all the way back to the spaceports.

In orbit the Warmaster watched approvingly. If the Palace fell and the Emperor died, loyalist Legions across the galaxy would lose heart and the war would be won. Without the psychic shield of the Emperor's power humanity would swiftly be over run by Chaos, Horus would stand in the rubble of man's greatest empire and be declared absolute master of the galaxy. If he did not win soon, those Legions he had lured to the edges of the Imperium would filter back and his attack would falter. For the Warmaster this was the ultimate gamble, everything was staked upon this assault and it had to succeed, and at that moment it looked like it might.

Mighty Macro-weapons now slaved to the Ruinous Powers smote the walls like lighting, crumbling the Adamantium and spilling hundreds of bodies encased in crimson and gold to the earth. The Palace began to burn and the defenders fell back as Primus Gate fell, some tried to rally but slowly day-by-day the defenders were forced back. The great walls of the palace were riddled with thousands of corridors and bulkheads and here bitter hand-to-hand fighting ensured, till entire sections of passages were filled with bodies. At Victory Gate Chaos Titans whipped the walls with energy blasts; Titans of the Fire Wasps answered their fire with Volcano cannons. The dead had to be bulldozed from the accesses to the Saturnine Gate, while the World Eaters built a pyramid of scorched skulls sixty foot high in Temple Square. Below the shadow of Anapurna Gate the corpses of Titans piled in vast jumbled heaps where they had fallen, grappling to the last with their hated kin.

_+++The Emperor's Champion+++_

_The basilica was open to the sky. Shells had penetrated the flagging void shields and torn away the intricate arches that had once towered overhead. Now, ugly, storm-black clouds crowded above, the thunder in their bellies drowned out by the continuous bombardment of the Emperor's Palace. But the Chaplain's voice still rang out clear and proud over the tumult._

"_So be sanctified with the blessings of our beloved Emperor, founder of our bloodline, and ruler of Mankind. With your blade you shall challenge the darkness, conquer the shadows, cast back those who have given themselves over to corruption and infamy. Destroy those who have declared themselves as champions of the Ruinous powers. Preserve what was from the depredations of the Arch-Heretic Horus…"_

_Three heavy explosions nearby shook the crumbling walls. Chunks of debris rained down onto the worn flagstones around where Brother Sigismund of the Imperial Fists knelt, his black power sword raised hilt-first in supplication. Neither he nor Chaplain Akrida flinched, nor the assembled squad of Battle Brothers. Such things were to be expected this close to the traitor's breakthrough. Chaplain Akrida placed the last purity seal upon the Imperial Fist's blackened armour. Brother Sigismund bowed his head once more before rising to his armoured feet. As one the assembled Space Marine, clad in their burnished gold armour, turned and filed into the Rhino waiting outside._

_The Rhino was as cramped as it was noisy, rattling over rubble and shell holes towards the breach. Brother Sigismund gazed at the worn, weary faces of his brother Space Marines, warriors of the Imperial Fists Legion who had fought night and day for weeks defending the Imperial palace. His heart swelled with pride that Rogal Dorn himself, Primarch of the Imperial Fists, had chosen Sigismund to be the Emperor's Champion. Only one thing disturbed him._

"_Father Akrida, though I am humbled by the honour bestowed upon me, it still seems wrong to obscure the proud colours of the legion."_

"_Fear not Brother Sigismund, Lord Dorn himself ordered it be so. Your heraldry has been changed to black to show that you serve the Emperor himself directly, as do myself and my fellow Chaplains. As such you are marked out in the sight of the Emperor"_

_Before Sigismund could reply the Rhino lurched to a halt. The Imperial Fists clamped on helmets and hefted their bolters with practiced ease, leaping out of the access doors without hesitation._

_Beyond lay a scene of carnage, of hell on Earth._

_A river of foulness was pouring through a breach in the mile-high palace wall. Fighting machines and troops forced themselves through the gap, corrupted banners swaying, foul winged abominations flapping above. Imperial artillery was ranged in on the breach, administering a fearful execution as giant shells smashed flesh and armour into an unidentifiable pulp, but still they came. The titanic roars of men, beasts and explosions melded into a single cacophony of horror, the air reeked with the smell of cordite, oil and blood. A swaying, crumbling line of Imperial tanks and soldiers struggled to contain the horde, their weapons blasting into the masses at point blank range as the fiercest traitors rallied and charged again and again._

_Thick black smoke coiled over the scene as Sigismund and his brethren pounded towards a point where the Imperial line was cracking, thinning to nothing beneath the infernal assault. As they closed, Sigismund could see the reason why. One of the accursed ones, once a blessed Space Marine of the World Eaters Legion, now a fell champion of the ruinous powers was leading the assault. His insidious masters had marked him as their own, and he towered above his twisted brethren, wreathed in dark majesty. His once pure armour was caked in blood and gore, scarlet horns broke through his helmet, which had mutated into a loathsome death mask. Skulls hung from chains about his waist in grinning testament to his corruption. The Chaos champion swung a whirling chain-axe in each fist, and the men of the Emperor fell before him like wheat before a scythe._

_Sigismund could feel a rush of what felt like murder-lust upon him, but realised that it was pure abhorrence that consumed him. Here was one who had pledged upon his immortal soul to stand between Mankind and its foes, but had betrayed that oath in the basest way imaginable. Words spilled from his lips unbidden._

"_GUARD YOURSELF TRAITOR! IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR, YOU DIE THIS DAY!"_

_The horned helm turned and its red-eyed glare blazed at him. A guttural beast-voice roared back._

"_AT LAST! I HAVE PRAYED FOR WORTHY MEAT! I SHALL GIVE YOUR BLOOD TO KHORNE AND YOUR SKULL SHALL BE MINE!"_

_Bolt shells snarled between the two forces as they crashed together, a horrible collision of blades, bodies and armour, split skulls and gaping wounds._

_None dared bar Sigismund's righteous fury as he charged at the Chaos champion. Razor-teeth whirled as the axes swept down on him. Faster than thought he parried the first with his black sword, but the second clove into his shoulder armour. The blade howled and smoked as it ripped into the thick ceramite before glancing off in a shower of sparks. The Chaos champion wielded the heavy axes as if they were straw, hacking and slashing like a mad butcher. Another cut laid open Sigismund's belly-armour, a fourth bit deep into his chest and bright blood flowed as he knocked the axe away. Sigismund staggered and almost fell. _

"_You are as doomed as your weakling Emperor", spat the horned one as he raised his axes for the decapitating blow. Sigismund gripped his blade in both hands and whirled it aloft. "And you are as deluded as your false god!" he cried, slashing downwards. Contemptuously the Chaos champion made to block the blow with his axes, but this was no normal blade. Forged by the great genius Ferrus Manus and blessed by the Emperor himself it smashed through the axes and on into the corrupted champion. With one mighty blow the Black Sword cleaved through the loathsome traitor bisecting him from head to groin. _

_The Chaos champion fell like a mighty oak, the two halves crashing down as a thin wailing scream echoed forth. Sigismund knew that even now the soul of the traitor was learning the fate of those that failed the Chaos gods and he whispered a prayer of thanks for his victory. Then he leapt over the corpse, there was still much of the Emperor's work to be done this day…_

Final Gambits

Feeling that progress was too slow Horus readied a surprise attack, he gave command of this assault to Perturabo, Primarch of the Iron Warriors and the greatest master of siege warfare in the galaxy. Where as Angron's assault was savage his was surgical, he combined an underground assault in tunnellers with a pinpoint Macro Cannon barrage that cracked a great breach in the eastern wall. Then with his guidance the Storm Lords Titans blasted a path through the mountains of the eastern approach, breaking out into the Inner Gardens, though taking terrible casualties in the process. Perturabo and his Iron Warriors believing their job to be done left the Palace to the horde flooding through the breach, and turned to assault the Imperial Fists fortress monastery attached to the Palace. Perturabo had felt slighted when Rogal Dorn had been chosen to build the defences of the Palace and he smiled as demolition charges brought the monastery of his hated rival down from within.

While all this was occurring loyal Jaghatai Khan of the White Scars had implemented a change of plan. Rather than throw his forces away against the invincible bulk of the main army, he launched a lighting attack to retake Lions Gate Spaceport. This night assault was spear headed by the first brotherhood of the White Scars who led the last surviving Imperial Army elements and tank divisions against the surprised heretics. The Khan quickly retook the key buildings and the defence lasers, throwing a defensive perimeter around the spaceport and as a testament to their determination he ordered his Marines to dismount from their bikes. This blocked the flow of Chaos troops at its most critical moment, Horus ordered the Plague Marines to retake the Lions Gate immediately but the defenders refused to give up an inch of ground and though the battle raged on for the rest of the siege Lions Gate remained firmly shut.

Horus could waste no more time on this matter, the final push on the inner Palace had begun. The battle raged across the grounds of the Inner Gardens, what had once been vast parklands were swiftly turned into a killing ground. Men used statues for cover and monuments for bunkers, blood soaked the ground and groves of ancient trees burned. Red-eyed, snatching sleep where they could, both sides fought a total war while overhead the Void shields crackled and flared under the bombardment. Trenches were hurriedly excavated in the meadows, snipers killed men as they tried to sip brackish water from the ruined fountains. Both sides fought with unimaginable naked ferocity, both knew the end was near.

Eventually Sanguinius was forced to retreat within the Palace itself, personally holding the Ultimate Gate while the wounded were carried through. Just as the giant Adamantium gate was about to close, a Bloodthirster of Khorne leapt upon the Primarch and the Daemons talons grasped at his throat. Sanguinius soared into the air, Angel and Daemon wrestling over the warring armies. Both side paused to watch this titanic struggle, it was a conflict such as has rarely been seen, two immortal beings of awesome power battling high above them. Sanguinius was weary and near the end of his strength, and the Deamon gouged great wounds in his flesh. The heretical throng roared its approval as the Primarch was cast to the ground, the impact splintering the marble paving. For a moment the Primarch lay still as the Bloodthirster landed over him and howled in exultation. Then faster than a striking snake, the Blood Angels Primarch rose to his feet and grasped the creature, raising it high he broke its back across his knee. Then with a halo of power playing around his head he tossed its dissolving carcass back amid its followers. They beat their chests and rent their hair and wailed in dismay, as the Ultimate Gate slammed shut.

Horus now faced a dilemma; he had counted upon his surprise assault being too rapid for the defenders to effectively resist and all his heaviest siege equipment was now stranded outside the main wall. In the absence of artillery and war engines Horus turned to the arcane power and mystical might of Magnus the Red to break the gate open. Magnus the Red and his Thousand Sons Legion had not joined Horus in force; the loyal Space Wolves' attack upon their home world of Prospero had left their Legion disorganised and vulnerable. But they had clawed victory from defeat as their retreat had lured the Primarch Leman Russ even further away from Terra, straight into the path of his most hated rival, Lion El' Johnson and his Dark Angels Legion. Magnus knew the feuding Primarchs would be no threat to anyone, anymore and he relished another opportunity to prove the worth of his studies. Magnus' sorcerers called upon their profound mastery of the warp, readying a mystical force even the Emperors psychic might could not resist. Psychic ice encrusted everything for a hundred yards around the gate and the chanting of the sorcerers drove even their acolytes mad, against this force the Emperor stood alone with only his own will to rely upon. The struggle lasted for over an hour as psychic backlashes whipped back and forth, but for all his might the Emperor was but one man and could not hope to prevail. All hope faded from the defenders as the Ultimate Gate began to grind against its locks and the Emperor stood impotent against this fate.

Then a great cry went up from the ramparts as a huge shadow fell over the Chaos horde, the great Sky Fortress, Wonder of the Imperium, had flown in under the Void shields, suicidally low its cannons blazing and its anti-gravs deafening hundreds. On board Rogal Dorn and the remnants of his Imperial Fists Legion were determined to stand and die with the Emperor in this final hour. Upon arrival, surrounded by cheering loyalists, Rogal Dorn immediately sent forth his psychic 'Librarians' to reinforce the Emperors' efforts. Though this broke the Emperors ban upon anyone, except himself, using psychic powers, it was clear that there were no more choices, it was do or die. When the Blood Angels released their Librarians too over a hundred battle Psykers stood ready, determined to prove their worth. The combined power of the psychically gifted Marines was directed by the Emperor to counter the Thousands Sons sorcerers, and the opposing Psykers were stalemated. Though Horus' forces stood ready, the Ultimate Gate remained firmly shut.

The Sky fortress then raced away from the Palace in a desperate attempt to reach Jaghatai Kahn and return him to the Palace. In this it failed, a pinpoint orbital strike brought it down and ended its saga in a blaze of fire. However even in its death throes her commander managed to guide the crippled craft down into the heart of the Chaos horde. 250,000 cultists, heretics, and Traitor Marines died in an instant as the plasma reactor exploded and it seemed as if a new sun was born on earth as it blasted a crater three kilometres across. Those within the Palace watched with tears in their eyes, they knew they were cut off; now they were truly alone.

Only a miracle could save them.

Turn of the Tide

At the very edge of the solar system, space buckled and ruptured as hundreds of warships tore their way out of warp space, they were battered and scarred veterans but they had finally arrived. Their crews' eyes filled with horrors that no man should be asked to face, and the pitted hulls bore testament to the currents they had braved, deep gouges and claw marks showing where Daemons had waylaid the vessels. However despite all this their emblems could still be seen, the Wolfs Head and the Winged Sword… the loyalist Space Wolves and Dark Angels Legions had arrived, and their wrath was terrible to behold.

Horus was both furious and afraid, the Primarchs Leman Russ and Lion El' Johnson were supposed to be battling each other on the other side of the galaxy. The very notion that they could put aside their bitter feuding long enough to come after Horus was a thought that no one who knew the two rivals would give any credit to. This was a disaster for the WarMaster, Lion El'Johnson was the only tactician in the Imperium who could match his genius and if Russ got his feral fangs anywhere near him Horus knew his followers would be picking up his corpse with a sponge. It would take weeks to break open the Palace and the loyalist fleet was only days away, with only his own Sons of Horus Legion uncommitted it seemed that time had run out for the Warmaster, that his gamble had failed.

Horus was first among the fallen, with all the power of the dark gods and the cunning of a Daemon, he resolved to try one last gambit; he could still kill the Emperor. He ordered the comm-net jammed so the defenders could get no word of their salvation and then he used his own psychic powers to the full, blocking the Emperor from becoming aware of this. Finally he dropped the shields on his personal battle barge, it was an invitation and a personal challenge that he knew the Emperor could not resist.

The Emperor rose to Horus' challenge and he with his Custodian Guard and his two Primarchs teleported aboard the WarMaster's command ship. Horus used his powers to scatter the loyalists across his hideously altered ship, leaving them to battle alone in its bowels. Sanguinius was the first to reach Horus' throne room; ragged, battered and weary beyond endurance he faced his fallen brother. In his evil cunning the War master offered his brother a chance to switch sides, reasoning that the Blood Angels Legion would be useful when the reinforcements arrived. Horus had always been a superb psychologist and manipulator and now he brought all his insidious tricks into play, manipulating the winged Primarch, playing on all his hopes, fears and dreams. Horus tore into the basis of everything Sanguinius held dear, destroying his dreams; he offered to lead him into a new glory, the glory of Chaos. Sanguinius was tired and exhausted, he looked straight into his beloved brothers eyes and saw there that to refuse was to die, so he drew himself up to his full height and spat in the Warmaster's face. Horus was wrathful beyond words and attacked him; at the height of his might Sanguinius had been no match for Horus and now he stood no chance at all. Disdaining to use his Daemonic weapon Horus instead strangled his brother with his favourite lightning claw before the throne Chaos had gifted him with.

Thus the Emperor found Horus standing over the broken body of Sanguinius and what happened next is the subject of legend. The two mightiest beings in the history of mankind clashed: each the result of decades of genetic engineering, with centuries of combat experience and awesome psychic powers. They met blade to claw, power to power, mind to mind and tested sinew and psychic ability to the ultimate peaks any human could hope to dream of.

+++_Death falls_+++

In the ashes of betrayal and treachery two demi-gods gave battle to each other, one a golden figure seemingly made of light the other a dark avatar of hate and fury. Their blows would have sundered mountains and had any living mortal been able to approach the sheer fury of the conflict would have torn out his sanity and left him deaf and blind.

Each strove to best the other yet the Emperor's heart was stone and he could not help himself from calling out, "Horus do not do this, you are not given to Chaos, come back to the light!"

His moment of distraction was to cost him dear for Horus struck like lighting and plunged his claws under the Emperor's guard stabbing him deep in the guts. Shocked beyond words the Emperor spat blood from his lips and his mighty sword fell from his limp fingers, he looked into his son's eyes desperately searching for any hint of mercy but found none. With a cry of triumph the Warmaster slammed his bulk forward and stabbed again, this time cutting deep into the Emperor's shoulder and in a burst of energy tore his whole arm off. The master of Mankind screamed in agony as his own son heaved him over his head and brought the Emperor down hard on his iron knee, shattering his back. He threw the bleeding sack of meat at his feet and sneered as he readied his lightning claw for the final strike.

At that moment a cry flew across the chamber as a single figure raced from the portal, a lone Custodian Guard charged forth, weary, bleeding and utterly outmatched by the Warmaster yet determined to die before surrendering. His valour was met with contempt as Horus turned his warped psychic might upon the lone man and in a single heartbeat reduced him to dust.

The death of the Custodian stung the Emperor as no mortal wound could; here was a man who had served him faithfully for over two hundred years cut down without honour. For the first time the Emperor perceived the truth that he had been unwilling to accept his beloved son was already lost and damned. The Horus he had once loved was gone and this foul beast gloating over its acts of depravity was not kin anymore. The Emperor abandoned his physical form for a heartbeat, gathering his psychic might into one single holocaust of power. Horus turned suddenly perceiving the threat to his life but too late for the hurricane of power tore into his mind and soul rendering him apart cell by cell.

Horus crashed to the deck beside his father, a burnt ruin within his pristine armour, and as he gasped his last breath all he could hear was the laughter of the thirsting gods as they came to claim the soul he had promised them.

Horus died in combat with his own father, the lies and betrayals of Chaos revealed to him far too late. The psychic shock wave of the Warmaster's death rippled outwards through the warp. On earth as the daemons screamed and vanished, the rebels stood dumbfounded, it was their leader not their enemy's who had died and they knew it. With the one who had raised the banner of rebellion dead, there was nothing to hold the traitors together. When word reached them of the Space Wolves and Dark Angels making planet-fall they knew they must flee. Within Lions Gate spaceport, Jaghatai Kahn and the handful of survivors watched in amazement as the Plague Marines turned back and marched towards Eternity Wall spaceport. Angron, Mortarion, Fulgrim, Perturabo, Lorgar and Magnus the Red, led their Astartes back to their ships and departed leaving the traitorous armies and cultists to their fate. As he stepped aboard his ship Angron turned and shook his taloned fist at the glittering dome of the Imperial Palace that had proved just beyond their reach. Then he shrugged, their foes were only mortal he had all eternity to seek revenge.

Epilogue

_On the surface of embattled Terra Primarch Leman Russ fought alone, racing through the ruins of the Palace towards the Emperor's throne room, his sons battling outside, single handed he hacked his way through a wall of foes. Countless traitors had penetrated the palace, indeed a thousand foes stood between him and the doors to the throne room but Russ cared not. Waves of enemies threw themselves at him but he ploughed through them like they were nought but a summer breeze. Hardened Traitor Marines lent their full might to his downfall but he bested scores of them and left their mutilated corpses in his wake. Hatred was in his heart, death was in his hand and not one traitor could stand against him._

_At last he reached the doors and charged through, to be greeted with silence. Under the mile high arches, so tall that clouds had been known to form under them, was nothing but the piled corpses of heroes and traitors. Fallen stone angels littered the floor; murals so beautiful that they would cause a grown man to weep were marred with bolter craters and the work of a thousand artisans laid waste. Russ walked under the smoking pillars that were all that remained of a Titan's legs and called out for his father. His cry echoed, answerless around the great chamber mocking and taunting him. In the distance brazen horns announced the rout of the Traitors, for with the one who had raised the banners of rebellion dead they crumbled and fled. For the first time Russ felt no joy in victory and saw no glory in his deeds. In the empty hall all seemed meaningless and dark and despair overtook him. Russ fell to his knees among the ashes of man's last golden age and begged all the heathen gods he knew of for guidance._

_The air burned and in a halo of light Rogal Dorn appeared, in his arms he carried the bloody tatters of the Emperor's body. Behind him his men reverently carried the corpse of eagle-winged Sanguinius: he would fly no more. Russ looked wearily at his brother; Dorn said nothing, merely shaking his head but once. Their brotherhood was shattered, and the dream that had driven them to conquer a million worlds… was dead. With fat tears rolling into his braided beard, Russ rocked back on his heels, threw back his head and howled his grief to the uncaring sky. Mournfully the howl echoed back and forth between the great columns and arches, gathering power with every echo. Outside his sons took up the howl, spreading its grief stricken tones, and every man who heard its anguish knew in his heart… this was no victory._

_Through the broken streets and ruined halls the two brothers bore the body of their father, racing the edge of night before the last gasps of his breath were stolen away. The survivors of the Custodian Guard charged out before them, opening the way to the Emperor's last sanctum. Deeper and deeper into the bowels of Terra they carried him till at last they found their way to the Imperial Dungeon. The mighty chamber was wracked with the rhythmic pulsing of machinery and around the Golden Throne electrical arches spat and hissed. High atop the pyramid the shrivelled corpse of the Regent of Terra jerked and twitched, utterly ruined yet held back from death by the baroque machinery that bound him._

_Leman Russ turned to his brother and said, "Dorn we can not do this, look at what has befallen proud Malcador; this is as likely to kill our father as save him"_

_Dorn's voice was brittle and cold as he said, "Brother we do not understand the full workings of our father's arts, but this is his own command. Shall we question and doubt now at the last hour, no we shall remain true to ourselves and do what must be done"_

_Reverently the Custodian Guard took the corpse of the Sigillite away and it fell to Rogal Dorn to place his father's body within the confines of the Golden Throne. As the ethereal connections were made between man and machine the corpse of Malcador gave a last gasp and decayed into dust and the Emperor opened his eyes. He looked up at his beloved sons and gave his last commands,_

"_Poor brave Malcador, he saved the last drop of his power for me at expense of his own life, no more shall he known as the Sigillite evermore he shall be remembered as Malcador the Hero! Alas the wounds inflicted upon me are too great even for my power to heal and if I ever depart the Golden Throne then the shield against Chaos will falter and humanity will be doomed. The treachery of Horus has set in motion a tragedy that will take thousands of years to play out, well beyond my ability to perceive. Hearken to me, for my strength fades again and there are none left who can aid me, soon you will be alone. It now falls to you my sons, you must stand between mankind and its foes even though treachery and betrayal will haunt your every step and the cost will be eternal war and certain death for you all."_

" _This is my final command to you all: Be Strong, Be Brave, Be Vigilant!"_

_And the Emperor spoke no more._


End file.
